Interloper

First, I must say, I really enjoy the free therapy that I get from writing here. It makes it easier to see the positive and the good in this world. I vent, I spread my joy, and I feel better.
The title of this entry is "interloper." I went on to a friend's blog, and viewed his profile, from there, I went to the name of our home town, and found a few blogs, not many, but a few from folks in our town. It is amazing, we both still live here! Anyway, that was yesterday, so I started to read the blogs, that is what they are there for, right? I read and felt as if, sometimes I was intruding upon someone else's thoughts. Strange, I love to read the published word, but many people treat this "place" as a journal, so, I felt odd, trying to read someone else's work. I used to journal, in the old fashioned way, a comp notebook, B&W marble, like the kids have in Elementary School. I have tons of them from my college days, mostly not full of writing ideas, but mostly full of drool, drab, and whining. I look back on the days that I wrote the stuff and I laugh, if only I saw the road ahead, I wouldn't see how uneventful my life was at that time. I whined about boyfriend trouble, now, if that was my only thing to whine about! And to think, the guy I was whining about, he turned out to be such a jerk, in my eyes anyhow, probably not in the eyes of others, but anyhow, that is what is there. I look back at the entries about him, (they go on for pages) and WOW, if I had only reread what I wrote, I wouldn't have wasted so much time on that one! Hindsight is 20/20.
When I read my old journals, I think that I am reading about someone else's life too, so there too I am sort of an interloper. I guess I was a different person, so I am reading about someone else, someone who hasn't touched the face of their own child, saw a parent die, and someone who
didn't have to budget their financials and time. Someone who was free to come and go as she wanted, and she really really did!
I wouldn't trade my past for anything, but I am glad that most of it is the past. My husband is a part of my past, but he is also a part of the present and my future. I have known him since I was 14. So, I guess that part of the past should remain there, ansd I should never forget it. I loved many things about the past, but hated much of it too. I try not to dwell on it, sometiomes though, I just want to sneak a peak into it, and try to remember who and what I was, so that I know what and who I have become.
So, for those of you out there, go ahead, be an interloper here, I don't live in the fear that someone will criticize what I write, I don't really care, this is my space, my soapbox, my way of getting through. I am who I am, and that is it. Comment if you like, they are fun to read, and sometimes touching, enjoy.